


Simon Snow and The Spiderman Boxers

by catsandladyluck



Series: Domestic Drabbles [9]
Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Fangirl - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Baz is weak against Simon's "magick", Baz probably imagined Simon solely wearing Spiderman boxers while sword fighting, Domestic Drabbles, How can I make laundry cute?, M/M, Simon's spiderman boxers, Snogging is in session, SnowBaz, Spiderman Spiderman Does whatever his boyfriend says, carry on, omg, part 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 00:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10231766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsandladyluck/pseuds/catsandladyluck
Summary: Back at Watford, if someone had told me that one day I would be doing Simon Snow’s laundry while he just sits around, I would have laughed in their faces and asked what sort of enslavement spell he was planning on using against me.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back, to Domestic Drabbles! Time for part 9!  
> Shoutout to my lovely beta, @Drarry_n_Snowbaz <3  
> Enjoy (:

_Baz_

 

Back at Watford, if someone had told me that one day I would be doing Simon Snow’s laundry while he just sits around, I would have laughed in their faces and asked what sort of enslavement spell he was planning on using against me. But as I sit here, folding Snow’s shirts into neat piles while he stares off into space, I begin to realize that he doesn’t need magick to get me to do what he wants.

 _“Baz,”_ he had said to me just a few hours earlier. _“I’m rubbish at laundry. Will you help me?”_ He had flashed a huge grin and batted his stubby eyelashes at me, a signature Snow move when he wanted something, and I knew that I was completely helpless against it. _He_ knows I’m completely helpless against it. Even without his magick, Snow could make me do anything if he tried hard enough.

It’s evening now, and the setting sun is filtering in through the windows. Snow is sitting at the other end of the sofa, surrounded by his messy piles of clothes. He only bothered folding two articles of clothing, then decided he was bored, and instead has been staring off at the windows while I work through the basket on the floor. I should be more irritated at him, but every time he closes his eyes and runs his hand through his hair, the sunspots that have made their way through the blinds dance across his arms and face, and he looks positively radiant. And I wonder how someone like him, with his boxy shoulders and his ruffled hair, could always be so angelic. So glowing. So beautiful. So—

“Snow, what the fuck are these?”

His eyes immediately leave the windows and dart over to my hands, as I reach into the laundry hamper and pull out the most atrocious pair of boxers I’ve ever seen. One half is red and the other blue, and they’re covered in various pictures of Spiderman in different poses. I almost laugh, and as Snow’s eyes widen, I do.

“Baz! Give me those!” Snow immediately launches himself across the couch to retrieve them, but the piles of clothes get in his way, and I hold the boxers above me, far out of his reach.

“Where did you get these?” I ask, still laughing. “They’re hideous.” He tries to grab my arm, but I hold onto his wrist with my free hand and hold the boxers off the side of the couch.

“Hand them over,” he says, turning his wrist out of my grasp. He tries to move towards me, but I push back on his shoulder.

“Did you have these when we were at Watford?”

“Shut it, Baz!” He says, trying to move away from my hand. But I hold onto him tightly.

“Crowley, Snow. So you’re telling me that every time you threatened me and my life with that bloody sword of yours, you were wearing _these_? Truly? The Chosen One, sporting around Spiderman underwear?” I start laughing again because it has to be one of the most absurd images that has ever come into my mind.

“Fuck you,” he says, swinging his shoulder out of my grip. He stands up and tries to walk over to the side of the couch, but I catch his legs with mine and wrap them around his, holding him in place.

“I don’t think so,” I say. I lean up and put the boxers behind me, between my back and the couch, and lean against them. “You’re not getting these back. I’m holding them hostage forever.”

“Baz, c’mon,” he whines, crossing his arms and locking his gaze with mine. Then in a quiet tone, he says, “those are my favorite.”

I laugh again and wrap my legs tighter around him. “That’s hilarious, Snow. But you’re still not getting them back.”

He furrows his eyebrows briefly, then tilts his head to the side. He flutters his eyelashes at me and grins. The signature Snow move.

“Please, Baz?” He asks, sweetly. “Can I have them back?”

I hesitate briefly but try to push down the need to give Snow what he wants.

“That’s not going to work on me this time,” I say. “You’re not getting these back.”

He furrows his eyebrows again, but he doesn’t frown. Instead, his lips curl upward into one of the most antagonistic smirks I’ve ever seen grace his perfect lips. He leans down, placing his hands against the back of the couch, on either side of my shoulders, and settles his face only inches from mine. He tilts his head to the side and smiles.

“Please, Baz?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “No.”

He leans in and kisses me. Once, then twice. And then a third time. I don’t kiss him back because I know his game; he’s trying to distract me. But then he kisses me a fourth time, biting my lip gently in the process. I try to stay focused, pushing my back against the couch, but then he kisses my jaw. _Crowley._ Once. Twice. And then again. And he’s trailing his mouth along it. And then he slides his hand into my hair and the other against my side. I lean my head back slightly. And he starts kissing down my neck, and along my throat. Then he bites me there, and I shudder. _Crowley, I’m done for,_ I think. And then he suddenly starts kissing at the base of my neck, and then he moves  along my collarbone, and then he—

“Hah!” He exclaims, startling me. I open my eyes that I hadn’t realized I had closed, and he’s now standing in front of me, waving the boxers around in the air.

“You’re too easy, Baz,” he says, smirking at me.

I cock an eyebrow at him, irritably.

“Fine, Snow,” I say, leaning up. “You win.”

He sticks his tongue out at me.

“But we’re not done yet,” I say.

“Wha—?” Before he can finish, I lean forward and grab him by the shirt collar.

**Author's Note:**

> All characters belong to the lovely Rainbow Rowell!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr: @carryonsimoncarryon


End file.
